Rising With the Sun
by Echoing Fantasy
Summary: Apollo thought that the first case was crazy, but it was only the beginning. Phoenix made sure of that. A series of drabbles revolving around the daily life of the crew at the Wright Talent Agency.
1. Chapter 1

_Rising With the Sun_

**1. lost and found**

"I… I can't believe I just did that," Apollo whispered to himself as he left the courtroom, the crowd filing out behind him. "I just put away my _boss. _Oh, I am _so _fired…"

The young attorney stopped at a nearby vending machine to grab an ice water, convinced that the cold feeling of the bottle could perhaps shock him out of this bad dream he was clearly having. He was so busy sulking he didn't notice Phoenix move quietly behind him, until he turned around and came face-to-chest with the man. "GAH!"

Phoenix didn't say a word as the young attorney pressed a hand to his heart while he leaned against the vending machine, breathing hard. "D-don't sneak up on me like that, Mr. Wright! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," the older man said, although the smirk he wore told Apollo the man wasn't feeling very sorry at all. "I wanted to thank you for your assistance today. If it weren't for you, Kristoph might have gotten away." _Again. _

"Y-yes, well, thanks to _me _and my big mouth and your interference, I'm out of a job. I doubt I'll ever be welcome back _there _again." He shuddered at the thought. Kristoph would doubtlessly put him on the 'enemies, must kill' list as soon as he got out of prison. The thought made him shudder again.

Phoenix's expression changed then, shifting slightly into something almost serious. Apollo had noticed the expression a couple of times during the court case, but had never commented on it. Somehow, he knew that when the older man held such an expression on his face, it meant questions were usually best saved for another time.

The man suddenly leaned forward, Apollo automatically trying to take a step back, only to realize that Phoenix's little scare trick had already pushed him as far back as he could. The only way out was to side-step the man, but something told Apollo Phoenix wouldn't allow him to do that just yet.

"…You could always come work for me, you know," His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid of someone overhearing them. But who would want to listen in to such a conversation? "It's not very big or anything, but it's a thriving business. You'd still be able to pursue a life as a defense lawyer, and it would bring a bit of extra money in as well."

"B-but don't you… I mean, you aren't…" Apollo tried to shape the words and failed. Fortunately, Phoenix seemed to see what he was driving at.

"But I'm not a defense attorney anymore, is what you were going to say? No, I don't play the game anymore, but I still have clients that show up from time to time. I normally recommend them to Gavin's place, but since he's not around anymore…" the former lawyer shrugged, "Like I said, it's just a thought."

Then the man was walking away, leaving Apollo leaning up against the vending machine. At the last minute, he called out, "Why are you helping me?"

Phoenix turned. "Because I'm the one responsible for your loss of a job. It's only fair I compensate for such a turn of events. You already have my card," he nodded towards Apollo's pocket. "You know where to find me, if you decide to stop by for a visit." Then he was gone.

Apollo dazedly recalled how close Phoenix had been, and yet he'd never noticed the hand slipping quietly into his pants pocket to place the card. Up close, Phoenix's presence had calmed whatever fearful terrors had been driving him at the moment, as well as swept aside all doubt concerning his fate. The card was a split in the road, and if Apollo chose to take that road, Phoenix would help guide him to wherever it was Apollo wanted to go.

_I need a day or two to think about this. __**Really **__think about this. _Biting his lip, the young man headed for the door, and made his way back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**2. joking around**

When Apollo finally got off his high horse and decided to pay the place Mr. Wright worked, it was with a realization that there would be no turning back after this. He wouldn't be able to tuck tail and run if things got too sticky – no, Apollo was nothing if not true in his cases, and he would help Mr. Wright and his d-d-daughter (it was still so hard to believe!) even if it killed him (which, if the craziness of the last case was anything to go by, it probably would). Apollo had thought that the realization that Mr. Wright had forged evidence would deter him in his decision, or at least put a sizable dent in his desire to have any contact with the older man, but this was not the case.

And so it was with heavy heart and a sinking sense of pride that Apollo opened the door to _Wright Talent Agency _and let himself in.

**[Some fifteen minutes later…]**

It was official; this was all one _really bad dream. _

Apollo tried his hardest not to scream, he really did. Apparently he didn't try hard enough though, because he heard something of a mangled whimper come out of his throat, and Mr. Wright was shooting him a cheerful grin like nothing was wrong. This same man had, according to him, been sent thirty feet up by a _car, _and walked away with a sprained ankle. The same man whose daughter was now asking for her _panties _back. And who thought his name was Polly. And wanted him to discover his hidden talent in defending _outside _a courtroom.

And Mr. Wright still wanted to know if he'd take the job.

Apollo's eye twitched and he fought off yet another scream. This had to be a bad dream, because no one could be this crazy. Not even the famed Phoenix Wright, in all his bedraggled hobo-ness, could be this crazy. Because if he was crazy, that meant that Trucy was crazy, and if she was crazy, that meant that Apollo was crazy too because everyone knew how contagious crazy was.

Cue the whimpering. Mr. Wright clapped him on the shoulder then, and said with a perfectly straight face, "Look on the bright side, Apollo. At least you'll get some much-needed experience in the real world."

Apollo made that odd whimpering noise again, this time with a strangled gurgle on the end, and inside his own head, Phoenix laughed.

Ah, rookies. They were so much fun to tease.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. the meaning of justice**

Phoenix can still recall the days spent as a defense lawyer quite vividly. The defendants he fought to protect, the evidence he gathered, the people he talked to, the attacks he shot down in the courtroom, the endless hours of paperwork… it's all there.

He knows how hard it is to get up some days and make yourself want to walk into the courtroom instead of fleeing the other way, of standing and fighting when it seems like all hope is lost. He's been there, both as defense and defendant, and he's both lost and won on that stand.

Which is why when he comes home late one evening and finds Apollo asleep on the couch, a bunch of papers in his hand and his case evidence laid out on the desk before him with a small lamp beside him, he knows he's chosen right. He hadn't been sure at first, with Apollo reacting like he was, that the boy was cut out for this sort of work. He had considered calling Miles and asking him if he had room for an apprentice.

But seeing the boy like this, rumpled and worried even in his sleep, the papers clutched so tightly to him that Phoenix has to use his most secret of tricks to pry them away, the elder knows that this boy will become a top defense attorney. And tomorrow morning when he took the stand in court and began defending their client, Apollo himself could very well realize it as well.

The raven pulls a soft blanket from one of the magical hats sitting innocently nearby, and tucks it over Apollo, running an eye over the evidence as he dims the light. Even if he wasn't a practicing attorney anymore, that didn't mean he couldn't help the kid out from time to time.

On a corner of one of the more prominent papers, Phoenix writes, _"Mrs. Blanca seems awfully nice. Just be careful of her cookies. I hear they're to die for."_

Apollo mutters something crude in his sleep; Phoenix smiles indulgently and pats the boy's head once before he leaves, heading back outside for another walk. He's suddenly looking forward to watching tomorrow's case.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. the song of greed**

Apollo's second case was a lot worse than his first, simply because of how crazy and stupid it turned out to be in the end. Within the first five minutes, he was working three cases at once, each as ridiculous as the last. AS if that wasn't enough, discovering Trucy's crush was the prosecuting attorney was more than enough to make Apollo wish for sudden death in the form of an inescapable lightning bolt. The thought, later retold to Phoenix, amused the older man to no end.

However, despite the insanity of it all, Apollo was still there in the courtroom, ready to do battle to the death when it came time. Phoenix was in the stands, as was Trucy, and both were watching him with eager, bright eyes as he trounced the prosecution, ripped apart the lies and half-truths spun by the witness, and put enough cracks in the story with his evidence for even Klavier to realize who was truly the guilty party.

The scream Alita Tiala gave out when they finally cornered her was one that gave Apollo chills of the good and the bad sort. The chills only got worse as she confessed to what had gone on, and admitted that she had only been in it for the money – she had never loved Wocky Kitaki and had gone along with the doctor's plans only because she was sure that Wocky would be dead within a few days. When those days had turned into weeks, and then months, she had realized that something had gone wrong and tried to dispose of the evidence, only for it all to start backfiring.

Apollo never forgot the feeling he got upon looking up at the stands and seeing Wocky Kitaki's face after Alita's admittance. He was shocked, angry, upset… but most of all, he was hurt. Apollo saw that, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Sure the guy wasn't his most favorite person, but he was _human, _and he had honestly, truthfully loved Alita.

After the case was over, and Alita had been taken off to jail and Wocky freed of all charges, Apollo had decided to head home rather than go back to the Talent Agency. He suddenly no longer had the heart to stay around with Phoenix or Trucy very long. Fortunately, both seemed to understand, and Klavier bid him a fond fairwell as he headed out the door.

The next morning he found a small giftbag on his doorstep; upon opening it, he discovered several bags of exotic tea and coffee that were so far out of his price range it was almost hilarious. He was still feeling horrible, so he chose from the tea selection and curled back up on the couch, intending to take the day off and recover from the shock of his first large-scale trial, as well as his first encounter with an evil being.

Later, he would come to discover that Klavier had paid a visit to Phoenix and Trucy after he had left, and with a combination of efforts they had pinned down some flavors of drinks Apollo favored. Thanks to Trucy's knowledge of his preferences towards coffee and tea, and Klavier's extensive history with some of the more exotic oversea markets, they were able to find something that would help get him through his first two weeks on the job in a relatively simple, peaceful way.

…Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the cases, which would continue to get more ridiculous and exhausting as time went on. Apollo would later thank his mini-family for their donation, and set about getting them Christmas gift baskets of their own.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. a harsh lesson**

Trucy thought of herself as a smart girl, if not a bit persistent in certain subjects. Her daddy had often said she would have made a great attorney, if they could ever get her to sit still and remain on the subject long enough. Most kids might have taken that as an insult, a slight against their lesser abilities, but Trucy saw it as a compliment, both to her ability to notice everything and anything at once, and her inability to sit still when a crisis was going on. Phoenix had always been very roundabout in his compliments of her, but then again he was a daddy, and sometimes daddies were weird with the way they did things.

During that court case against the boy from the Kitaki clan, Trucy had watched, enraptured, as Apollo (after a bit of stumbling around) had latched onto statement after statement like a hungry hawk on the hunt, grasping each one firmly and shredding it into little tiny details she barely even noticed. Instead of looking at facts however, she was focusing on the passionate glow in his eyes, his firm, unyielding voice, the straight refusal of his body and shoulders to bow or bend to any other explanation than the one he was giving. With his entire _being _alone, Apollo was performing a concert solo fit for any king, and it had given him the attention of everyone in the room. Even Klavier seemed unable to look away.

Beside her, Phoenix was smiling and actually paying attention, the dull, inwardly-focused look no longer on his eyes. Instead, they shone as bright as Apollo's were, with his body leaning forward as he listened to the young man lay out the details of what went on that night. Seeing her daddy like that made Trucy happy; he always seemed so unfocused about unimportant stuff, but he was _always _there when it counted.

Like when Alita gave up and told the entire story to the court. Phoenix stopped paying attention to the case then and focused solely on Apollo, his expression becoming unexpectedly sharp, almost angry, within a few moments. Curious, Trucy also focused on the red-clad boy, and what she saw made her heart nearly break in two. He was staring at Alita with a disturbed expression on his face, eyes flickering up to Wocky periodically, then back down the traitor before him. Still, his back was firm and his chin set, even though Trucy could practically _feel _the shame and disgust for the person before him radiating off his person. It made her want to run down and give him a big hug.

Unable to do that, she settled for silently willing some of her strength towards the drained-looking Apollo. She peeked over towards her daddy as she did so, and was surprised to find his expression had changed yet again. He was still razor-sharp in the eyes, but his mouth had relaxed and his head had dipped down a bit, and his hands were on his knees, keeping him balanced. Instead of the anger he had displayed moments prior, he almost felt… gentle; protective, even. Like he was the literal phoenix of legend, stretching his wings forward to try to shield Apollo. It was a tug on the heartstrings, one Trucy would never forget.

Seeing things like that in a court case gave her reason to further drag the elusive creature known as Apollo out of his shell. And she wasn't alone in her endeavor; Klavier teased and mocked him endlessly, although not so much that it came off as insulting to the younger man. Phoenix… well, he was still being Phoenix, smiling and appearing not to pay attention even while Apollo muttered sourly about dealing with 'empty-headed old attorneys' and cursing the day he ever met the _famed _Phoenix Wright. Phoenix took the complaining in stride, and teased Apollo just as much as Klavier did, all the while double-teaming the boy alongside the prosecutor and helping him up his game in the courtroom.

Phoenix had taught Trucy the rules of the courtroom even though he no longer defended anyone, and one of the major ones he had lived by was not allowing his emotions to run him during the long points where things were out of hand. The Kitaki clan was a good example; Apollo had almost ruined himself because he had allowed his emotions into the courtroom – had it not been for Trucy and Mr. Hat, the case would have been over in a little under five minutes. Fortunately, neither Klavier nor Phoenix were capable of scolding Apollo over that particular matter, well aware that _that _little lesson had come hard-learned after he had witnessed the truth.

After Apollo returned to work again, Trucy noticed his face seemed a bit more… grim. His eyes seemed darker, and his mouth was almost always set in a firm line, whereas before it had quirked up or down almost all the time. He was an expressive person, Trucy noted, but the Kitaki incident was causing him to clam up. Phoenix clearly noted what was going on, and had given Trucy a single shrug of the shoulder when his daughter had asked what he was planning to do about it.

"He has to learn these things, Truce. I know it seems harsh, but I had to learn it around his age too. He should be grateful no one's died yet." The dark sort of humor told her just how worried her father was about his sort-of apprentice. The fact that Klavier seemed almost challenging in his taunts the next day in court spoke legions as well. Both men were trying to shove Apollo back to his feet, but he needed to crawl before he could walk, and he was sitting down with no intentions of getting back up.

Thus, Trucy.

After he returned from a brutal almost-lost court battle against Klavier, Trucy followed him to his house and slipped in behind him. He hadn't asked her over or invited her in, but somehow he seemed to realize what she was here for. Which really was fine, because it saved her an explanation. After brewing up two cups of tea for himself and his company, Apollo flopped down on the nearest armchair and sighed heavily, eyes sliding shut. Trucy knew a critical point in time w when she saw it, and took her chance.

Using her hips and shoulders, she nudged Apollo over until he was pressed against the opposite end of the chair, and she was practically sitting on him. It was a tight fit to be sure, but sometimes skin-to-skin contact was necessary. She snuggled up beside him until he had nowhere else to move, then sighed and relaxed. Her head was tucked under his chin, her ear pressed against his collarbone just so. She could hear his heart, not quite as deep as her father's, but just as firm, and the pace of it told her he was still a bit spooked.

Eventually, his arms moved (rather stiffly) around her in a half-hearted embrace. He didn't say a word, but Trucy could tell that he was grateful for her intervention. They stayed like that for the rest of the evening, until the sun touched the horizon and Trucy needed to head home. Apollo walked her back to the house, his single nod upon reaching her house and quiet, "Goodnight" his only parting gestures.

The next morning she saw Apollo back in court, against Klavier. She had worried that her methods hadn't done the job, but Klavier was grinning as Apollo let out a familiar bellow of _"Objection!", _his expression pure determination. Trucy noted with a hint of smug satisfaction that her daddy was also rather happy about Apollo's comeback, if that look in his eyes was anything to go by.

The rest of the trial went by in quick strokes, Apollo taking Klavier's arguments in stride and striking several harsh blows against the witness' testimony before finally revealing the true culprit behind everything. Personally, Trucy couldn't help but feel that Apollo's trial that day was the most beautiful one she had seen to date.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. power outage**

It was nearly eleven at night; Trucy had been in the process of wrapping up her final homework assignment when the power flickered off. After a five minute wait with nothing happening, she realized that it wasn't likely to come back on again, at least not during the thunderstorm that was currently raging outside, and felt her way to the door before throwing it open and crawling on hands and knees to where she knew the sofa resided.

It was pitch black both inside and out, but Trucy knew her way around the house well enough to remember where all her props were and avoid them. Shifting upright to get between the sofa and the small coffee table they had stationed there, she shook her father's shoulder to wake him. "Daddy…"

Phoenix was a light sleeper; he was awake the instant he felt her touch. "What's up Truce?"

"The power's out. I don't think it's coming back on anytime soon."

"Mmn, that is a problem, isn't it?" It went unspoken that he _might _have forgotten to pay the electricity bill last month – Trucy had long since learned that poker and magic shows could only generate so much in a given month. "Alright then, crawl on under," he lifted the blanket he had laid across him while Trucy reached for the level that would turn the sofa into a bed.

After a moment of shifting about on the mattress, Trucy found a comfortable spot to lay and snuggled against her father, happy he was so warm on such a stormy night. Her father generated an almost crazy amount of body heat sometimes.

She was nearly asleep when Phoenix's voice woke her again. "Where's Polly?"

Trucy thought a moment. The younger attorney had been on a series of murder cases that took up almost all his time lately – most times he ended up staying the night and falling asleep on the desk or in one of the chairs stationed in the house. Phoenix usually took the time to drape a blanket around the boy's shoulders before going to bed his own self, sometimes moving him to the couch on the nights when he wouldn't be back until much later.

"He's still at his desk, working on the reports for tomorrow's case I think."

Phoenix clucked his tongue. "I doubt he can do it now that the power's out. You remember where he is?"

"Of course," Reluctantly sliding from her father's grasp, she padded her way across the room to another door and opening it. It had originally been a storage closet, but Apollo had taken it over and cleaned it up nicely. He used it as a second office whenever he had to come over, since it was the only room in the entire house that was mostly sound-proof.

Trucy was a bit surprised to find Apollo asleep in the room, a dying candle sitting beside him. Smiling at her friend's unconscious state, she prepared to blow out the candle and gather him up.

"Hold up there, Truce."

She jumped and whirled around to face her father, who had managed to sneak up on her without her notice. He moved like a ghost sometimes.

"Daddy! Don't do that!"

He put a finger to his lips in an plea of silence, and then carefully moved Apollo's chair back, catching the boy's head with one hand to stop it from slamming on the desk drawers. Carefully leaning the chair back with his foot, he gathered his unconscious apprentice up and left the room, leaving Trucy to put the chair back and blow out the candle.

When she returned to the bed, Apollo occupied the space beside Phoenix Trucy had just abandoned, and like his daughter was snuggled up close. Trucy smiled and pressed herself up against Apollo's back, wondering what the apprentice's first reaction would be when he woke in the morning. It certainly promised to be an experience, if nothing else.


	7. Chapter 7

**7. the cookies are a lie**

Apollo stared at the scene before him in something like trepidation. Trucy, elbow-deep in what looked like cookie mix, several dirty mixing bowls surrounding her. A trail of chocolate chips lay scattered at her feet, and a little ways beyond that was a wooden spoon and a mixing instrument. Further back near the stove sat a recipe book, the page open to chocolate chip cookies. A few other unknown jars and items lay around the book, none of which Apollo recognized.

The defense attorney sighed, bracing himself for a headache he knew would soon be arriving. "Trucy?"

"Hm?" The magician didn't look at him, continuing on with whatever it was she was fixated on.

"Why is it that whenever _I _make cookies, the kitchen comes out nice and clean, but whenever _you _make cookies, it looks like a tornado came through it?"

Trucy looked up at that, a pout on her lips. "Now that's mean, Polly! Just 'cause I'm not super stingy like you—"

An image of Edgeworth popped into Apollo's head.

"—doesn't mean that I'm a huge mess maker either! I just prefer to clean up _after _I'm done!" With a tip of her top hat, she turned back to her cookie mix.

Ah, and there was the headache, right on time. "Okay then. But surely there's _something _you could clean up? I mean, you hardly need six mixing bowls."

"Actually, I was going to take those with me later on."

"Huh?"

"For the Wonder Bar! I was going to have a trick where I pull a bowl of cookie mix out, put it away, and when I pull it out again, there's cookies instead of cookie mix!"

"So these _aren't _for us?" Apollo asked, some part of him crying at the thought of not being allowed a single bite of something he hadn't had in _years _and still loved.

"Oh, not all of them, but I'll leave a small platter out for you and Daddy to share! Don't worry, Polly. I wouldn't have bothered making them if I wasn't planning on letting you or Daddy have any."

"Well, that's a relief." When Trucy said nothing else, Apollo shrugged and reached for the mop. He might as well get started cleaning while he waited for Trucy to finish up.

The cookies took only fourty-five minutes to cook, and a further fifteen minutes to cool. By the time Trucy appeared, a small plate in hand, both Phoenix and Apollo were positively bouncing on the sofa. It seemed that even at Phoenix's age, it was still quite possible to love something so much.

"Now be careful you two! They're hot!"

"What? But didn't you just spend the last fifteen minutes cooling them off?" Apollo asked. Regardless, he heeded her warning and took a small bite. He would later thank himself for this. Because in the next instant he was running for the kitchen, Phoenix's hysterical laughter ringing in his ears and Trucy's call of, "I told you so," kicking his now downed confidence quite hard.

After spitting out as much of the cookie as possible and rinsing his mouth out several times, Apollo rounded on the girl now standing behind him, looking cheerful for someone who had just gotten away with an almost-murder.

"What," Apollo demanded harshly, "_exactly _did you put in those cookies?"

Finger on chin, Trucy pondered. "Well, the last batch I made was so stale, so I thought I'd try something different. We had a bunch of hot peppers just sitting uneaten in the fridge, so I tossed those in. Um, we also had some left over chocolate Snackoos, and a bowl of peach slices—"

"Stop," Apollo halted her train of words, a migraine pulsing in his head. "Just _stop _Trucy. Did you even think about what those things could do to your father or I? I mean, we aren't exactly superhuman you know!"

"Oh I know that. But Daddy loved the last batch of Ultra Hot-and-Sweet Chocolate Chip cookies I made so much that I decided to make another batch!"

"Wait, I thought you said your father thought your last batch was boring?"

"He did. He said there weren't enough hot peppers, and there were too many peach slices. So I bumped the ratio of peach-to-peppers up!" She stuck her tongue out at him.

Any other time, in any other house, talking to any other people, Apollo supposed he would have been shocked. He supposed he might have called them crass and disgusting or even left the house. But this was the Wright house, and Apollo had long come to accept that things in the Wright house were usually the farthest from normal. And so he sighed.

"The next time you plan to make cookies… put some more peaches in mind, okay? I like mine really sweet."

"Sweet! Gotcha!" Trucy crowed, happy that she had managed to find someone else to eat her cookies.

That night, while Trucy was at the Wonder Bar performing, Apollo and Phoenix sat in front of a TV, watching reruns of _Steel Samurai _and eating peach-and-pepper cookies. Plus one glass of water on Apollo's side, of course.


	8. Chapter 8

**8. street rat**

To anyone who knew him, Apollo Justice was not a violent person. He was bitter, sometimes sarcastic and disrespectful at points, but never violent. His courtroom attitude was blunt, honest and up-front. He hid nothing behind his back, and kept no emotion at bay; in some ways he was the wrecking ball of the courtroom, destroying lies and leaving only their shattered remains behind.

But to Apollo, it was all a blatant lie.

Back before Gavin had picked him up and offered him a place to work at, Apollo had lived on the streets, in the alleys and in the abandoned, dried-out sewer tunnels where all street kids ended up. In those days, the rule of survival had been simple - jump before you get jumped, punch before you get punched, kill before you get killed. It had been a gang law; one Apollo had never participated in simply because he hadn't been a gang member. But he _had _been one of the top brass down in those tunnels.

Down there, he had been respected. He had been feared. He didn't have to worry about someone trying to kill him, because by then he'd been old enough to use the bracelet he wore to see his "friends" tells; a desire to wipe out the past and keep with the present had made him forget his previous usage of the thing on his wrist. The only reason he recalled it at all was because of what was standing in front of him.

Two men, both large-sized with muscles that indicated they could easily toss anyone in the bar out with no problems. Normally, Apollo would think the two were bouncers for the bar – except the bar didn't need bouncers. The Wonder Bar, while questionable in its showmanship, was excellent in its customer satisfaction. There was no need to pick a fight when you were getting exactly what you asked for.

No, the problem wasn't the men. It was the _man _standing on the stage beside Trucy, trying to out-do her performance, mocking her and her father, criticizing everything she did, said or even _thought. _The worst part was that this man had to be in his late thirties – and he was picking on a girl that wasn't even _fifteen. _

Apollo had held his tongue for the past hour because Trucy had shot him a Look. But now the two men beside Apollo were mocking her as well, calling her names that even the boys down in the sewers would have grown red at. It was true that Apollo had grown up a monster, but he had grown up a monster with _honor. _Laws had been in place, even down there. And one of the most powerful (and cherished) rules had been that you didn't gang up on an opponent that was only half your age (or size).

To see such _common people _breaking those rules… it made Apollo's sight go red. He had come to the surface for work, and Gavin had taken him in and broken him of his habits. Broken him of the need to rage and scream and throw a punch at anything that disrespected him. He was a defense attorney; not a ruffian. He _wasn't _going to break these men in two, he _wasn't _going to go up there and punch the living crap out of the thirty-something asshole that was degrading Trucy, and he _wasn't _going to turn into that monster from the sewers and potentially scare Trucy off.

But most of all, he wasn't going to disappoint Mr. Wright, who had taken him in and helped him out. He wouldn't betray that trust.

Yet even as he said those words to himself, the heckling seemed to get worse. Trucy was biting her lip and trying to act calm and composed, but Apollo could Perceive the quiver in her knees, the beginning of wetness in the corners of her eyes. Trucy Wright did not cry easy; Apollo himself knew that. The idea that she would be reduced to tears by such a _pathetic _excuse for a human being made the red grow again, and a soft growl began moving its way through his vocal cords.

"—little Miss Androgynous! I mean, she doesn't even look like a _girl—_"

"—no breasts at all! I pity the man who plans to marry her—"

"—probably compensating by whoring herself around—"

Something in Apollo's head snapped. He was pretty sure it must have been loud enough for everyone in the audience to hear, because people were suddenly scooting away from him, looking pale and nervous. And that was fine, because it meant _no one would be getting in his way when he tore the liver out of that fucker and his two goons. _

It was odd, just how going so far into his rage had made him so eerily _calm. _Two seconds ago he'd been ready to go to war, but now he felt completely fine, as if everything in the world made sense. And within his mind, it did. Trucy was being harassed by someone who was clearly jealous of her reputation at so young and age and was so he was hoping to break her spirit by mocking her. So to make things right, he would break them. Simple. Easy. Efficient.

_**Just like in the old days, eh boy?**_

He nodded as he stood and made his way to the two men by the bar. Yes, it was just like in the old days. These asshole men were no different from the punks he'd had to deal with back then – the ones who'd cursed and praised him in the same breath.

Gavin had made him swear to hide his fists and bite down on his tongue when his rage became too much. His upbringing demanded he sidestep the formalities and protect Trucy, who was like a little sister to him. Of course, that might change after this little incident but he could care less at the moment.

Still, there was some sense of decorum he had to follow, and so he tapped the two men's shoulders, letting himself smile a little. "Hello boys, I couldn't help but notice you two seem to find great humor in harassing my sister."

"She's your sister?"

"Seriously?"

"Oh yes. And that's why I thought to ask you two _politely _to refrain from harassing her any further." The smile on his face was starting to stretch now, and it took Apollo all he had to keep from baring his teeth and demanding they stand down. This wasn't the sewers – these weren't sewer brats who fought like feral animals to protect what was theirs. These were grown men that would surely listen to reason.

"And what are you gonna do if we refuse?"

_**Aha, there's always a stupid one somewhere, boy. Looks like you've found one. Now where's the other?**_

"Yeah, what's a smarmy little bookworm like you gonna do, _attorney?_" The guffawing laughter rang louder, and people turned to look. Apollo smiled, eyes going narrow and teeth starting to show.

_**Ah, there he is. That was fast. You want ta do the honors, boy, or should I?**_

"Allow _me,_" Apollo hissed, cocking his fist back and letting the first punch fly.

The two never saw it coming. But in all fairness, no one of their ilk had ever dealt with someone like Apollo before. They had never learned to identify certain signs telling them when to back off and when to press forward. His punch sent them quit far – farther than he had been expecting. The crowd gasped and cried out in alarm, the bartender yelling something about it not being a brawling area.

_**No problem, son. We'll just take this lit'le dance outside. Shall we, boy?**_

But Apollo hadn't taken a single step before the two were back on their feet, roaring and staggering towards him to take a swing. Suddenly it was the tunnels all over again; Apollo's Perceive kicked up, and he saw their arms moving a certain way, saw their bodies turning, preparing for the punch, saw their legs and knees getting ready for each step.

_**The one on the left is gonna try ta trip ya; the one on the right's aimin' fer yer head.**_

With such skills at his disposal, it was easy for him to duck and weave his way between the two of them and knock their heads together, causing them further injury as well as confusing the hell out of them. The man on the stage was bellowing too now, demanding Apollo stop whatever he was doing before he sued, but Apollo was having too much fun to care. The side he had been suppressing for god-knew-how-many-years was rising up again, demanding satisfaction, demanding _blood. _It was a feeling unlike anything he'd ever experienced, and he intended to sate it.

The two went down much too fast for his liking though, and all too soon he was jumping over the stage rails and striding up to the bastard that had started it all, seizing him by the front of his shirt and yanking him close before letting everything he was come to the fore and look the man dead in the eyes.

Apollo had to say, paste-color suited the man well. "Now listen ta me, you worthless _worm. _You are goin' ta stop harassin' my sister, you are goin' to go home and _s_tay the _fuck _outta my way, and boyo if I _ever _see yer ugly mug in here again, gods help me I will yank out yer _spleen _and shove it so far up yer ass you'll need to reach down yer _throat _ta get it out, tie yer intestines in a _knot _and use your _skeleton _to play myself a _song _while I kick the ever-living _fuck _out of you. Ya got me, you pasty-faced bastard?"

In the commotion he had barely noticed he had slipped back into sewer-speak and his accent had reappeared, turning his normally docile tones into a growl befitting a thunderstorm. By the speed the man was nodding his head, it was clear he understood the message. As soon as Apollo let him go he scuttled off and Apollo was left standing there with an urge for bloodshed and nothing to do with it. Maybe he could just—

"Apollo!" Something warm, small and _alive _slammed itself into his back, stopping any further contemplation of the issue. In the havoc, he had completely forgotten about Trucy. He imagined she would never want to see him again after this, would call him a monster and tell Phoenix all about what had gone on—"A-a-are you okay?"

_She's crying. Upset? Scared? Angry?_

" 'm fine, girl. What 'bout yerself?" His accent didn't seem to want to go away, nor did the feeling of power flowing through his veins. Trucy shook her head against his back, arms winding around his stomach.

"J-just… takemehome. Please."

He could do that. Turning, he gathered her up close and headed for the door, ignoring the murmurs and half-silenced words in his wake.

He expected her to dump him off at her house, to demand he leave. He expected a furious Phoenix, an upset Trucy, and a soon-to-be-dead Apollo. He got none of that.

Trucy clung to him and cried silently into his neck the entire walk home. Her grip on his shoulders was tight, unyielding and painful in some ways. The silence was grim and Apollo considered that this could very well be his last night alive.

He reached the office too quickly for his liking; transferring Trucy into a one-armed grip, he reached for the keys and inserted them into the keyhole, unlocking the door with a quick flick of his wrist. It seemed like he had barely stepped inside when Phoenix rounded the corner from the kitchen and saw the duo. The instant Trucy saw her father she cried out; Apollo quickly let go of her and stepped back, not quite sure how Phoenix would handle it.

He expected an interrogation, or at least a demand to know what happened. Instead he got a steely look from Phoenix as the older man gently ushered his daughter towards her bedroom. Something in that look told Apollo that he wouldn't be going home tonight. Determined not to run away from something that was clearly his fault, he plopped down on the couch and waited for Phoenix's return.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up it was after midnight (Trucy's show ended at 9), the house was mostly dark, save for the light in the living room, and Phoenix was gently running his fingers through Apollo's un-gelled hair. The light touch told him that Phoenix had cooled down – Apollo silently thanked whatever god was nearest for that. The only thing that terrified him more than an angry Phoenix was a disappointed one, and if the man had confronted him while he was upset, there was a high chance he would have been both.

"Trucy told me what happened," Phoenix said, his voice just barely above a murmur. "She said you 'went crazy' on the guys who were picking on her. And that you carried her all the way home with no complaints." The hand stilled, the warmth of the man's hand seeping into Apollo's scalp. "She also said you must have been really pissed, because your hair went flat and you gained a 'very sexy' accent."

Apollo sputtered and Phoenix quickly hushed him, smiling all the while. "While I will admit that I'm a little unhappy about you ensnaring my daughter with this 'sexy voice' of yours, I will also admit that I'm happy that both of you are safe, and you didn't lose yourself to your past self." And then Phoenix gently tipped his head and did something completely unexpected.

He kissed Apollo.

It was utterly platonic; a quick butterfly kiss on the boy's temple in what was obviously a fatherly 'welcome home' way and then he was up and moving for the kitchen, not looking back to see the shocked and amazed look on the boy's face. It took Apollo's brain a moment to rerun the conversation and action through his brain, and a minute longer to realize what Phoenix had said at the end. Once he did, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

"…_**you didn't lose yourself to your past self."**_

"How the heck…?"

"_What tangled webs we weave when we practice to deceive. So tangled in fact, we sometimes catch ourselves in them."_

And Apollo's opinion of Phoenix quickly did yet another 180.


	9. Chapter 9

**9. guard dog**

It was another wet day on the streets, meaning it was a sea of umbrellas and trenchcoats on the crosswalks and streets. Apollo was no exception to the fact; he hated getting his hair wet, especially when it was already gelled up. It became a sticky mess that was only cured by a hot shower and some conditioner, neither of which he had on hand. Not to mention the general sensation was just unpleasant – although he could say the same about a number of things in his life.

The trial was nearly six hours long, and utterly exhausting. The general confusion of the court case was outshined only by Winston Payne's incredibly bald head. By the time the doors opened themselves again and the Judge excused them, Apollo was quite ready to go home, collapse on the couch, and not move for the rest of the evening. He had only walked a block though, when something caught his attention.

A brown box, soaked with water, with the untidy scrawl of _Puppies for sale _on one of its flaps. There was only one puppy in it; a wet, shivering little brown-and-black thing that was crying piteously out into the crowds. Despite knowing that there was a chance Phoenix wouldn't allow it into the office or that he himself might not have the room, he shifted through the crowds until he was by the box and picked the puppy up.

Big brown eyes looked up at him in gratitude, a tiny warm tongue licking his chin affectionately. Smiling, Apollo drew the puppy closer and wrapped his jacket around the two of them, trying to help the puppy stay warm. If its yawn was any indication, it appreciated the gesture.

_Looks like we've got one more mouth to feed, _Apollo thought as he turned the corner and started heading for the _Wright Law Office _(since Phoenix was finally in the process of studying to re-take the exam, they'd decided to change the name back). He had to be quick when he unlocked the door and slipped inside, because Trucy was on him immediately, waving a newspaper in front of his face, yelling about her uncle's latest performance and the quickly-rising reputation of Gavin's band.

The puppy chose this moment to let out a demanding howl, attracting not only Trucy's attention but Phoenix's as well. "Is that a puppy?"

Sighing under his breath, Apollo nodded and moved his jacket aside so Trucy could see the little wet wonder. She squealed and reached out for it, only to yelp and tug her hands back as the puppy tried to bite her fingers. When she tried again, she got yet another bite, followed by a not-quite menacing growl.

"I'd cut that out if I were you, Truce. I don't think the little guy likes you," Phoenix advised from where he stood, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. "I'd wager Apollo's found himself a guard dog."

And indeed that seemed to be the case, as the puppy only had eyes for Apollo. If anyone else came near, they were bitten, snapped or snarled at with as much ferocity as the pint-sized furball could manage. After a bit of observation and experimenting, Apollo decided to name him Ares after the Greek god of war. Phoenix was kind enough to let him use the bathroom to dry Ares off, although that quickly became a tug-of-war between puppy and boy when Ares realized that the towel could be a toy.

While Ares had seemed restless in the office, he practically pinned himself down in Apollo's home, stealing one of Apollo's many dirty shirts and hiding under the bed with it, growling softly as he slept. Apollo put down a bowl of water and a small plate of leftover ham for the pup (making a mental note to get some proper dog toys and necessities tomorrow) before crawling into bed and turning off the light.

"Good night, Ares."

"Rrrggh."


	10. Chapter 10

**10. Last Christmas**

To say Trucy was excited about her bundle of presents under the tree was the understatement of the year. She had never had a Christmas with presents, at least not like these! Plus, this was the first year her daddy had been back in law and was prosecuting again – and against his old rival no less! Between Apollo, Phoenix, Detective Gumshoe (who she'd met last year), Prosecutor Edgeworth (she'd met him with Detective Gumshoe), Klavier, and the half dozen other friends she'd made over the passing year, she was going to be spoiled rotten by the time the entire affair was over, at least according to Apollo.

Even Ares had been sweet enough to give her something, although his present was a bit early; this morning he had delivered a drool-covered sock that had been missing for the past two weeks. Although the drool had been disgusting, she had patted the puppy on the head in thanks and tossed it in the washer to be cleaned.

But Trucy was a giving sort of girl, and she insisted on getting everyone a present for the ones she got (even Ares). That was why she was currently standing outside the courtroom, impatiently waiting for Apollo to finish talking to Klavier about their newest case. She and he were going to go to the mall so she could get everyone a present – Apollo had set aside a couple months' worth of funds for her just for this occasion, and she even had a list for the event.

"C'mon Apollo! I want to get to the mall before all the sales are over!"

The attorney rolled his eyes and apologized to Klavier for Trucy's rudeness. The blond musician waved the apology aside and handed Apollo a card, asking him to call later on so they could continue their discussion. Apollo said he would, and the two each went their separate ways, Trucy positively bouncing with excitement as Apollo moved towards her.

"You couldn't wait two seconds?" Apollo asked. Trucy didn't listen though, too busy snatching up his crimson-clad arm and striding towards the nearest crosswalk, already yammering away about which store they would visit first to better maximize time and cover more ground. Apollo silently listened without complaint; nearly two years with Trucy and Mr. Wright had taught him that sometimes it was better to shut up and listen than the stand up and speak. And when it came to Trucy's shopping plans, sitting down and shutting up usually tended to be the _only _option.

"—and then we'll head over to the food court, grab a bite to eat, rest for a little bit right before we begin our second half of shopping! Does that sound good, Apollo?"

"Sure," he yawned, shrugging his jacket a bit higher onto his shoulders. It was mid-winter now, and the autumn storms had faded into the distance. The sun was no longer prominent in the sky; instead, a grey veil had descended to cover the expanse of the sky, making this seem dreary and exhausting. Snow had fallen the past two nights, and most of the lawns and trees were still covered with it. Apollo wanted nothing more than to turn tail and head for home, but he knew if he did that then Trucy would be left to her own devices with the money – Trucy had never learned the art of spending a little and saving a lot, sadly.

So it was that a half-asleep Apollo and chatterbox Trucy crossed the street, never hearing the commotion coming towards them until it rounded the corner. With a scream of the tires, a car swerved the corner and charged towards the duo, pedestrians along the sidewalk backing up and running as they realized the driver wasn't entirely sane.

"Look out!" Someone yelled.

Apollo's attention jerked to the fore, and suddenly he was Perceiving the car, seeing the terror-stricken look on the driver's face and the small, almost unnoticed movement of fluid leaking out of the bottom of the car where the brakes would be. He realized that the driver held no control over the vehicle and would inevitably crash into something – or someone.

_He's going to hit us!_

Apollo saw the car was too close for him to grab Trucy and run – by the time they got the first step in the car would be right on top of them. But that wouldn't stop him from saving Trucy, who was frozen like a deer beside him, eyes wide.

So Apollo shoved. Trucy went flying. Seconds later a terrible sound of breaking bone and something large hitting the street sounded, followed by the crash of a car hitting a light pole.

Blood flowed on the street. Apollo didn't move.

Trucy screamed.


	11. Chapter 11

**11. Just Your Color **(Slight Apollo/Klavier)

"Herr Forehead, I am in need of your help."

It was another long day in the life of one Apollo Justice. Court had just adjourned for the evening, the two-day case concerning a butler and a snooty frenchman finally coming to a resounding close. Apollo was in the process of packing his things up and making his plans for the weekend. Sadly, said plans were now in danger of being denied because of Klavier.

Klavier and he had spent more than a few weekends bonding, although said bonding usually included Ema or Trucy or someone else of the female gender. Apollo liked to think it was a side-effect of Klavier's normally musical lifestyle where he was followed by up to a hundred females at a time. And that was fine, really, because having a girl there kind of defused any sort of tension they happened to have, whether it was from a bad argument, or a hard day at work, or just their own lives reaching up to bite them in the asses. But this time, Klavier wanted his help, and his _alone._

And the matter of advice? Fashion. Apparently Klavier was doing a good thing and helping out the new schooling system by… dressing himself up.

"You want me… _me, _who wears red 24/7 almost, to help you _find a wardrobe?"_

"Ja! I mean, you wear red all day, it is true, but you make it look good. On another person, red would not be so attractive, you know. After all, it only goes so far."

Apollo rolled his eyes as they strolled from the courthouse, Klavier easily keeping up with him. "Nice to know. So why not just order something expensive off the internet like you usually do? Or wear something with your mark on it?" He gestured at the chain hanging around Klavier's neck.

"Because the outfit in question will be the new uniform for the school they're building here in the city. I have seen how you dress yourself, Apollo, during formal events. You are always so clean about it, so perfect. It's… instinctive, I think. You never go wrong."

"That's because I don't aim to blind everyone in the room with my glamour, you idiot. I aim for simple but comfortable with a hint of style," he stopped at the park benches and sat down, turning to look at Klavier's own sense of style. The burgundy went well with his skin, but the blond hair… "Plus, you have no sense of color. Burgundy only goes so far, you know."

"Touché. So I have your help then?"

Apollo thought it out. It would mean devoting much of his weekend time to helping the fop out. It meant having to deal with Klavier without backup. It meant… well, it meant what it usually meant.

"Fine," he sighed, wincing as Klavier grinned and snatched him up into a hug, murmuring thanks in his ear.

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"But Apollooooo…"

"Don't 'Apollo' me, Klavier. Lime green is one step away from permanent retinal damage, especially when used in large quantities like it will be. So no, lime green is _not _an option."

Klavier pouted as he put the shirt back on the shelves, the aid standing a few steps away muttering something bitter under his breath as the two moved on. When he had first seen the famed Klavier Gavin enter the small shop, he had been ecstatic. Klavier was practically rich, and his shop hadn't seen sales in a long time. But then that other boy had started shooting down his customer's ideas, and it had quickly become annoying. It was getting to the point where all the shopkeeper wanted to do was wrap his hands around the man's neck and squeeze.

"The yellow is off-limits too."

"Awww!"

Yes. Squeeze. _Hard._

The next two hours were dedicated to pretty much the same pattern; his customer would find something nice, but the boy in red would shoot it down. Eventually the owner just gave up and retired to the back room, telling the boy to call him when he was ready to ring up his purchases (if he made any). Meanwhile, Klavier sighed and dropped into a nearby chair, turning his head to work out the kinks in his neck. So far, every idea of his had been shot down by Herr Forehead – it was getting to the point where Klavier regretted asking for his help.

But no, he couldn't do that, because _he _had been the one to ask. If Apollo had bugged him for hours to go along (like Ema) or put on a smile capable of melting even the stoutest of hearts (Trucy) then there would be a different story. But this was Apollo. Klavier couldn't be made at _Apollo. _

"Hey Klavier, come here for a second, would you?"

"Be right there, Apollo," Pushing to his feet again, Klavier warily trotted over to where Apollo stood beside the changing rooms, a group of clothes over one arm. "What's up?"

"Strip."

Klavier's eyes widened at that, but he caught his breath after a moment and raised an eyebrow. "You know Apollo, there are other ways to seduce me if you're interested in that sort of th-ING," he grunted as Apollo sucker-punched the clothes at him, face a brilliant shade of red.

"Shut up, and change, Klavier!"

Rolling his eyes and chuckling under his breath, Klavier moved into the changing room and began to strip, carefully setting his old clothes aside as he shifted into the new ones. Apollo had selected baby blue pants, a white button up dress shirt and a dark blue plaid cardigan for an outfit, complete with baby blue tie. _Does he have something for blue? I'll have to ask him._

"There! What do you think, am I spectacular, or what?" Klavier announced upon emerging. Except instead of crowing cheers, he got a withering glare.

"You're _messy,_" Apollo hissed, and then began unbuttoning everything before Klavier could as much as blink.

The rockstar would have shoved Apollo off and yelled at him, except he was quickly discovering he couldn't. He was too stunned to do anything except stand there and let Apollo redress him, some part of him purring in contentment.

Apollo might have been a powerful defense attorney and a prickly individual, but he had the gentlest touch Klavier had ever known. Instead of yanking Klavier around like most people would have done, he merely shifted Klavier a bit, never grabbing or pulling, but instead pushing. The touch brought back memories of his mother – how soft her hands had been, and how careful she had been when dressing the brothers.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her until just now.

"There! All done," Apollo announced, bringing Klavier out of his memory-induced stupor and back into reality. When Apollo gestured at a mirror, the rockstar went to take a look, and found himself unable to breathe. He looked _incredible, _but somehow the clothes didn't have the same effect that his other ones did. Looking himself over, he saw the difference the clothes seemed to bring, in both is appearance and his own feelings. The blue was soothing, comforting in a sense.

It was then he caught Apollo's eyes in the mirror, and saw the strange, flickering emotion in them.

"I…"

"Blue looks good on you, Klavier," Apollo said, his voice gone quiet. Klavier found himself sweating suddenly, heart pounding in his chest. Apollo's gaze seemed… heavier somehow. It made him want to try on more clothes, to see what else Apollo thought he looked good in.

Then the look was gone, and Apollo was smiling at him again. "Need anything else?"

Klavier quickly gathered his wits about him again. "Um, I need an outfit for PE. Then we're done."

Apollo nodded, already wandering towards a particular section of the store. "Change out of those and I'll give you new ones."

And Klavier rushed to comply, thankful to be out from under Apollo's gaze when his legs finally gave out.

* * *

In the end, the shopping excursion took only a single day and a handful of hours. The two outfits were paid and put away for the shoot, and Apollo was able to enjoy his weekend off. When court resumed on Monday, Klavier approached him after lunch and clapped him on the back.

"Herr Forehead! I must extend my thanks to you. The shoot went off without a hitch, and the school is receiving funding as we speak, thanks to your planning."

"I didn't plan anything, Klavier. I just went with what looked good," Apollo replied after swallowing his sandwich bite. "But I'm glad to hear that things went smoothly for you."

There was a moment's pause, and Apollo assumed the attorney had gone back inside. But then he found himself enveloped in a hug, smelling the familiar, almost unrecognizable scent Klavier seemed to give off. Apollo didn't pull away, knowing that Klavier sometimes needed these little things and pulling away would only make him hurt.

"_Danke, Apollo. Wirklich." _(Thank you, Apollo. Truly.)

And for a moment, Apollo found himself actually enjoying the hug, and tempted to give one back. Alas, as with most things, it didn't last.

"AWWWWW! Apollo's getting hugged!"

Apollo sighed at the sound of Trucy's voice. Peering over the others shoulder, he realized it wasn't just Trucy standing there, but Mr. Wright as well. Phoenix had an eyebrow raised and was smirking at them in a subtly insinuating manner. "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to see today's court case! You left without me this morning, Polly! Not cool!" Trucy said, hands on hips. Apollo rolled his eyes.

"Well I'm sorry, little Miss-I-don't-wanna-get-up, but I have work and I can't wait until you feel like getting up to do it," he heard Klavier snicker at that.

Ares popped up out of Trucy's hood suddenly, prompting the girl to yell and try to grab the puppy before he leapt off and charged towards Apollo, barking at the stranger hugging his master.

"Ares, this is Klavier. You can't bite him," he told the puppy patiently. As if understanding his words, Ares whined and sank in the snow, looking like someone had just kicked him.

Seeing Trucy snicker gave him an idea. "But you _can _go nibble on Trucy if you want."

"Hey!"

Too late; Ares was off after the girl like a rocket, barking for all he was worth. Trucy squealed and started running around her father in hopes of getting his protection, but Phoenix just looked at the sky and pretended not to notice anything while his daughter attempted to dissuade Ares from biting (licking) her to death.

Apollo rolled his eyes at the sight, deciding not to bring up that not once during the entire conversation had Klavier stopped hugging him.

_Curious indeed, _he thought smugly, and ducked out of the hold, heading back for the courtroom with Klavier hot on his heels.


	12. Chapter 12

**12. a sense of honor**

The celebration for one Wocky Kitaki when he returned home from the operating table minus one bullet in his chest was in all parts loud, rowdy and messy. It had been nearly two years since that fateful court case – a case that part of Wocky still refused to believe. After Red had revealed to him the truth behind everything Alita, and more importantly his father, did, he had been forced to grow up rather fast. Those days of acting like a gangster, thinking he was 'baddest of the bad' just because of his 'war injury' were gone, replaced with days of working at the nearby bakery with his father, and taking care of the house.

Life-changing events like learning he was on the verge of death for so long had changed him, shifted his insides into something more than a little mature, and calming his rash and violent temper. Wocky himself noted on more than one meeting with the older men of the clan that he wasn't so quick to jab back at those that made an underhanded remark, and his threats had become much more subtle, his voice now refusing to quake even an inch in the face of such dark times. His mother said it was his grandmother, working her magic from up high. His father patted him on the back and said he was becoming the sort of man he had always needed to be.

And so it was that the day after the party, one Wocky Kitaki stood outside the Kitaki mansion in nothing but blue sweatpants, his favorite Bad Badger T-shirt and a pair of slippers with a broom in his hand, cleaning up the remains of the party that had gotten outside their walls. It was cold that morning, the sun still sluggishly climbing over the eastern side of the world, fog curling around nearby lampposts and building corners.

The mansion was quiet, everyone inside too busy sleeping away hangovers mixed with the general excitement of the party itself. In the distance, Wocky could hear the city beginning to wake up; doors closing as people headed off for work, bicycle bells chiming, cats meowing and dogs barking. Wocky sighed, looking down at the mess in front of him and realizing just how domestic he'd become since the bullet incident. _Funny, I always imagined more scars. _

A familiar form heading towards the mansion from the park across the street had him leaning on the broom. He'd told himself he would pay back any favors he owed, and he would. So when the figure got close enough, Wocky kept his voice low but clear and called out, "Hey Red."

Apollo looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, and after a moment, smiled. The smile, Wocky noticed, was different then the smile Apollo had given him all those days ago, when Wocky had been a brat. This smile was between matured souls, those who understood the world and its workings. Easy, familiar, sometimes secretive, but always friendly. "Heya Wocky. How've you been?"

"Decent, I s'pose. Kinda tired after the op, but mostly okay," he went back to sweeping as he spoke, carefully putting the last of autumn's runaway leaves in one pile and the garbage in another. His mother always said being orderly was the way to go. "What about yourself? I heard Big Blue's back in action."

Apollo nodded, glancing at the broom between one breath and another. "You need a hand? I've got some time to kill."

"Don't you have to go to court?"

"Nah. Judge called an off day. One of the courtrooms got hit with vandalism the other day, so they're trying to clean that up before they resume. Besides, Phoenix is taking most of the work now," There was a slightly sour expression to his face as he said it. Wocky chuckled.

"He stealin' your thunder, bro? That ain't cool."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll sic Trucy on him later today to make up for it. Broom?"

Wocky opened the door behind him and pointed to a small shed nearby. "Right in there. Combo is 33-7-1."

"Cool."

It was almost scary, the ease with which they worked together, speaking of times both rough and nice as they cleaned up the house and its contents. What would have taken Wocky a good portion of his week took most of the morning instead, Wocky waving off Apollo's help with the laundry and other such simple chores. It wasn't until they were almost finished that Wocky remembered why he'd called out to Apollo in the first place. "Hey, I was thinking about it earlier, and I owe you quite a bit."

Apollo paused where he was bent over the furnace, a bag of trash in his hand. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well, you saved me from a life of hell with Alita, and you showed me my old man was more than just some old fool that was gettin' senile. The way I figure, I owe you for two favors, and I'm not the sort of guy that can just walk away from what he owes in good conscience. Ya dig?"

The attorney nodded slowly, hearing the words that weren't spoken as well as the ones that were. "You want to repay what you owe as soon as possible."

Wocky nodded, dumping another bag into the furnace. The guys had gone overboard with the tequila, he noted. "It won't feel right otherwise."

They went back to burning the remains of the party after that, although the quiet between them remained as each considered what the other wanted and needed out of the system the Kitaki's had employed where favors were concerned. Wocky couldn't refuse a request because he owed, but Apollo wasn't the sort to ask anyone for help if he could get it done himself. Part of Wocky feared for what was to come, although he didn't dare show it outwardly.

It wasn't until he was walking Apollo out that he spoke, tone easy. "Trucy's been torn lately, you know."

"Uh?" The topic caught him off guard. Wocky tried to figure what he meant, but drew a blank.

"You see, I have to return to work in two days, and that also happens to be the day her uncle performs on stage. She really wants to see it, but Mr. Wright can't take her because he's also going to be working. And the day after that the Gavinners perform their new album live. Neither of us can take her, and she's really quite upset about it."

The grin Apollo gave Wocky was clear. "So I'll tell you what. I'll give _you _the tickets, and you and she can go. Two days – two favors. You go with her both days, and you'll have your favors repaid. Sound fair?"

Wocky would have hugged the attorney, he was so relieved. He nodded. "What time should I be there?"

"I'll have her come pick you up. Her uncle's performance isn't until 12, but I suggest getting ready about an hour earlier – she'll want to explore. Same for the Gavinner's concern at 10."

When all the details were flushed out and Wocky had said his goodbyes, he leaned back against the wall and stared at the two tickets in his hand. Apollo Justice really was his kind of man, Wocky thought. Grinning, he tucked the tickets into his sweats and headed back inside the house to get breakfast started.


	13. Chapter 13

**13. gaining what you lost**

Thalassa stared at the address on the paper Mr. Wright had given her, trying to ignore her trembling hand and unsteady breath while she checked for the fourth time that this was the correct place. She was finally here, and today was the day she would get to see her children – not Apollo Justice and Trucy Wright, but _her children _– for the first time since she had lost them all those years ago. And oh, how many years it had been.

She was young when she had Apollo. Terrifyingly young, and her husband far too old. But she had loved him, and her father hadn't wanted to ruin that. But that didn't mean he didn't plot behind her back to take away the child she bore those many months. She didn't pretend not to know what her father had been doing while her belly had swelled until it was nearly as big as she; but she had been far too young to stop him, and far too weak after giving birth. She had lost her son - the child that was now a defense attorney, and the only remembrance she held of the man she had once loved.

And then, her father, confident there would be no more "outsiders" to take his daughter away, had put his plot into action by having her marry his pupil. And for a while, she had been happy, and had forgotten that she had a son she had left on the doorstep of the orphanage one dark dreary night, his cries echoing in the rumble of an oncoming storm. She had forgotten, right up until she became pregnant again. This time, not nearly so young and her body already knowing what was coming, the birth had been natural. The child had not. Her father had realized all too easily the potent power coming off the babe, and immediately urged her towards her father for training.

She barely saw her daughter in those days, and when she did, Zak was always right beside her. Thalassa began to wonder if she would ever be allowed to bond with her daughter. And then, just like before, she lost her child. The Quick Draw Shoot Em hadn't always been as safe as it was; she knew, she had been on the receiving end of the first bullet. Her memory in tatters and her husband's reputation on the line, Thalassa had been abandoned to her own fate. For the next seven years she would not see either Trucy or Apollo, and when she did, she would not be able to see either of them.

But today would change that, because Phoenix had called her up this morning, telling her that Apollo and Trucy were finally ready for the truth. But it was not his story to tell, at least not his _alone. _She had to be there as well, to see the first light of realization break through their eyes, to watch as their world turned on its head before righting itself again. To see them put _Thalassa _and _mother _together. Her palms were sweaty, and she was half afraid she would faint, but she knew that after today, she wouldn't have to worry about them knowing the truth.

She knocked on the door, and smiled when Apollo answered, looking a bit more nervous than normal.

"Hello Apollo. May I come in? I need to speak to you and Trucy about something very important."


	14. Chapter 14

**14. rainy day memories**

Fingers plucked at taunt strings with no beat or tune in mind; with his guitar in his lap, Klavier stared out the window of his office at the dark grey sky, watching the water wash itself off the glass in a smooth continuous flow. His chin was propped up on his clenched fist; whether it was a way to keep him from strangling himself or from punching the glass, Klavier didn't know.

Phoenix ran his fingertips over the tops of the piano keys, then hesitated and drew back, closing the lid once more. A crack of thunder outside had him pulling away from the piano and moving towards the small window the Bowl held. Light zipped through the clouds in quick bursts, retreating just as quickly as they had come. Without his notice, Phoenix's fingers sank into his pockets to touch where his old attorney's badge would have been, if he had it still.

Trucy grimaced as the water began to come down faster, quickly pulling out the umbrella Apollo had bought her and opening it. Sighing, she tucked her bag upon her shoulder a bit higher and continued the walk home, feeling oddly disturbed by the rain. There was something lurking in the corner of her mind, something she wasn't sure she wanted to touch. So instead she just walked on.

Apollo froze when the first bolt of lightning seared the sky, head tipping back automatically to accept the sky's gift of rain. He was soaked now, but he didn't care; the water felt divine on his skin, soothing away old scars both inside and out. With every flash of light his mind would go back to those dark days in the streets, and he would shudder, but all too soon the rain would wash it away and he'd be relaxing in the storm's embrace again.

That night, all four of them experience their own sort of quiet breakdown, most in the form of memories. The rain upset the delicate balance within their own heads, but much like the water it washed the evidence away before it could be seen. Wounds were opened, shut and re-sealed with a more firm hand. Memories were confronted, cried over, and then repressed again. In the morning the sun would come out, and the pain would be gone. But until then, each of them kept their silence and faced their darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

**15. stolen birthright **

He had been so close. So very _very _close.

Damn Apollo. Damn his brother. Damn Phoenix. Damn them all.

They were nothing before him; mere worms eating at the dirt they sat in, forever contemplating what could have been instead of _doing _anything. Vera, sweet Vera, had been his answer to that. He had not waited for the world to come to him – he had gone to the world and demanded respect, demanded power. Sure, he had lied and cheated, poisoned, maimed and even killed to get where he was, but it was all for the best. After all, he was the first-born son. Everyone knows the first-born gets everything.

Klavier had lived off his scraps, and never questioned him for it.

Apollo had lived under his rules and never fought the leash Kristoph had put around his neck.

Vera had taken the apple he had given her and bitten into its poisoned shell, never once believing it to be a lie, a façade.

That damned Phoenix Wright had ruined it all. He had come out of the shadows like the nasty little plotter he was, put himself between Apollo and Kristoph, and severed the bond between the two brothers. If it weren't for him and his damn meddling, Kristoph could have gotten away with it all.

The power. The money. The respect. Everything he desired would have sat in his lap, unopposed if Phoenix hadn't swooped in and taken it. It was Phoenix's fault the former king now sat in a jail cell, cozy as it might have been after the rigorous redecorating. It was all his fault. His for tainting Apollo, his for snatching his brother away. _Mine mine all mine._

Klavier Gavin knew one thing: Phoenix Wright would pay. And all in a matter of days.

_I will make him bleed as I have bled._

Smiling to himself, Klavier slipped the notice inside the envelope and called for the guard to take it to the mailing slot. Then he sat back, make himself a cup of tea, and laughed.

_I will destroy Phoenix Wright. __**Effective immediately. **_

He could hardly wait.


	16. Chapter 16

**16. misplaced aggression**

Apollo Justice didn't do Mondays. Or Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, or even Fridays, really. The only day he did do was Sunday, and that was because it was his one day off before he had to drag his sorry excuse for an ass back to the courts and fight yet another exhausting battle.

And they _were _becoming exhausting. Almost to the point where he felt like every time he woke up he needed to go back to sleep because he didn't have enough rest yet. It was getting to where he was grumpy and mean when he woke up, snapping at anyone and everything even after he'd had his morning coffee. Even Trucy was starting to steer clear of him. Apollo didn't want that – especially after learning that she was his sister – and so tried to reign in his temper for one nice afternoon and go shopping with her.

So far, it sucked.

At first it had been easy to keep his temper in check and let everything go. Easy when he and Trucy talked and laughed and enjoyed life. But then the phone calls and the messages had starting coming in about how he had a court date tomorrow and needed to be an hour early, and then two hours early. And then there was a notice about how Klavier was sick and wouldn't make it, so they were sending in some new guy to pick up the slack. It was an unending hell, and all Apollo wanted to do was scream.

Except he didn't. Instead he stalked over to the food court and bought himself a hot dog to eat while he waited for Trucy to finish shopping for panties in the ladies department. She wouldn't let him go with her, and he hadn't offered. She was old enough to take care of herself – that much he knew for a fact.

But the real trouble started when Trucy came _out _of the store not long after that. Apollo stood up and moved to speak with her, when something caught his eye. When he turned to look, he felt his heart stop cold in his chest and something grab his mind in a fist-like squeeze, turning it numb and fuzzy.

There was Wesley "Sicko", leaning against a nearby wall, leering at Trucy like a hungry wolf eyeing a particularly tasty mutton chop. His eyes slid down her legs and back up to her rear unrestrained, and the scholar smiled – just like he had in the courtroom that day when confronted by Trucy's panties.

And suddenly, it was a great day to be alive. In fact, Apollo felt so happy he was surprised he didn't wonder whether or not he'd been drugged. He felt like he was floating in a surreal, happy place where nothing could go wrong, and he could fly and not land on the ground in a withering, agonized heap. And that man was the cause of it all.

His mind gleefully supplied that Trucy was looking at him with concern, and Wesley was aware he had an audience. If anything, the man's face went from pasty to pale in a heartbeat, and the grin slid off his face to be replaced by something terrified. It made Apollo happier than he should have – especially since he was right beside Trucy and could help her if anything happened. Vaguely, he wondered if maybe Mr. Wright's parental protective streak was rubbing off on him, because he'd never felt so happy before. It was almost demented.

"Trucy, go wait out in the car for me."

"Why Apollo? Is something—"

"Just do it, okay? I promise I'll tell you why later." When that got no reaction, he rolled his eyes. "Humor me, sis."

Trucy finally gave in with a sigh and a demand that he not stay too long or else Daddy might get worried. _Daddy's going to be happy by the time I'm through here, _Apollo thought as he slipped between the people roaming around, adrenaline carrying him right in front of the now-quivering man that had stalked Trucy for months and stolen her panties.

"M-m-mr. Justice, ho-how n-n-ni…"

"Quiet," Apollo growled. Stickler sank down, looking like a man fixing to be hung. And in a way, Apollo supposed, he was. "Now Mr. Stickler, I think you and I need to have a little talk." Reaching out, he laid a firm hand on the man's shoulders, smiling in his friendliest (most terrifying) way possible.

"Come with me."


	17. Chapter 17

**17. inheritance **

The clanging of piano keys at three in the morning had Apollo staring between the clock and the doorway in something like fear. He knew for a fact that Mr. Wright was out of town for a trial case, which left only him and Trucy behind to keep the house going. So far they hadn't broken anything too expensive or destroyed anything they couldn't replace before Mr. Wright got home.

The only thing that had happened was that every night at exactly three, the piano would start to play. Horribly, at that. And when Apollo got up to check on it, the noise would stop and there wouldn't be anyone there. Apollo wasn't the superstitious sort of man, but if he didn't know any better he'd say they had a ghost in the house – one that apparently played as badly as Mr. Wright himself.

He had been determined the first two nights, but now he was just tired. Tired of waking up to the sound of horrible piano music, tired of going in there only to find the place deserted. So that night, instead of leaping up and heading for the next room, Apollo curled up in a ball with a pillow over his head and went back to sleep.

When he woke up two hours later, the piano was still going, but he thought nothing of it. Yawning, he slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom connected to his room, where he washed up, combed his hair and put on his work suit. When he emerged, the piano was still playing, and he slipped into the living room unnoticed.

This time, the piano didn't stop playing.

And so one shell-shocked Apollo was greeted by the sight of Trucy sitting in her favorite pair of panties and a nightgown, plucking away at the keys while she attempted to read a set of music – a set that, even with the distance between them, Apollo could tell was beyond her experience range. "Um…"

The piano keys let out a distorted cry as Trucy jerked, whirling around and knocking herself off the seat in the process. Apollo quickly looked skyward, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Trucy's sprawled position was less than chaste. While he waited for his sister to pick herself up off the floor, he conversed. "I didn't know you played piano."

"I don't. I've been trying to learn though. I think I'm getting the hang of it!"

_No, _Apollo thought dourly, _no you aren't. _

"Hey Apollo, do you think this means I've inherited my daddy's skill as a piano player?"

Apollo closed his eyes. There were so many retorts to that it hurt. So instead, he kept his mouth shut, made himself some French Toast, and was out the door before Trucy could start an encore.


	18. Chapter 18

**18. fire and ash** (Slight Klavier/Apollo)

This couldn't be happening. It had to be a dream, because only dreams allowed him to be this close to the one that held his heart (unknowingly mind you), watching him do something that was completely… completely…

_Oh god, he's doing it again!_

Klavier considered about discreetly crossing his legs and looking away from the scene, but found that he couldn't. His eyes were glued to the stick that sat perched between chapped lips, a tanned, scarred hand occasionally rising to pull it away and flick the ashes off, right before a whisper of smoke curled out of those same lips like dragon's fire.

It was beautiful. It was sensual. And Klavier needed more.

"H-herr… Apollo?"

"Mm?" The smoking attorney leaned against the back wall of the courthouse, legs crossed as he released five perfect smoke rings into the sky. Klavier wondered if maybe Apollo was familiar with that hookah-smoking caterpillar from that one story that everyone seemed to like so much.

"W-when… did you start smoking?"

Apollo blinked at him, apparently too relaxed to care how he looked. His normally uptight, prim-and-proper self was without his signature red vest and his hair had gone from two curved horns to one horn leaning over his face, the rest drawn back into a tight bobtail. "Around twelve. Why?"

Klavier felt woozy. _Twelve? _The boy had been _twelve _when he'd started smoking? "Why so young?"

Another breath of smoke. "Because of reasons. Mostly related to stress, and because none of us could afford gum. The hobos in the streets carried booze and cigs, so we swiped the cigs."

"Why not the alcohol as well?"

"Che, you think just because we were young we were stupid? The older kids gave us detailed – and I mean _detailed _descriptions about what happens when you drink. So we left the booze and smoked our cigs in peace. To be completely honest, I had to stop once your brother picked me up – something about me 'desecrating the halls of his office' with the smell."

Klavier worried his lower lip. He knew some things about Apollo's past in the streets – Apollo hadn't been forthcoming with all the facts, but he had enough of a picture to understand. "Why start again?"

"Because today has been hell, and it's going to be even hotter by the time I enter that courtroom. I figure if I'm going to enter the dragon's den and get burned, I'd better go in with some of my own fire." The grin he gave bordered on lecherous when he looked Klavier over. "I see you're wearing blue today. Any particular reason, _Klavier?_"

Klavier would later blame the crimson rush to his face on the sun, rather than the definite purr in Apollo's voice or the knowing gleam in his eye.


	19. Chapter 19

**19. surprise**

It was dark in Wright and Co. Law offices when Trucy arrived home. Praying her father and Apollo were both asleep, she grabbed the key from under the mat and slipped it into the slot, wincing when it turned with a loud _click. _The door creaked as she opened it and even the floorboards seemed out to get her, both seeming to make as much noise as possible. When she finally shut the door, she stood on the mat and waited for something – anything to happen. When nothing did, she sighed in relief.

The light turned on. Trucy cursed.

Both her father and her brother stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder, arms crossed, twin looks of _where have you been young lady _on their faces. Trucy bit her lip as she considered herself and then her father/brother. "Um… I can explain?"

"Trucy. It's _twelve at night. _Where have you been?" Apollo was the one to break the silence. Trucy began twining her fingers together, as she always did when guilty of something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

"Um…"

"The truth, Trucy. You had Apollo and I worried sick. You know the rules; if you're going someplace new, you have to let either Apollo or I know in advance so we know where to look if you go missing," her father chastised. Apollo didn't even give him the dubious look he might have all those years ago. He was so used to the craziness at this point that he easily went along with it without even thinking about it.

"W-well, you see… I didn't exactly go… to a new place. I was at the park."

Apollo raised a brow. "Doing _what, _exactly?"

Trucy felt something in her soul curl up and die. Here came the fireworks… "Um… going out on my promised first date?"

The silence was so heavy Trucy could have dropped a pin and heard it. Both her father's and brother's faces had gone from worried/angry to incredulous/shocked. Then the silence exploded outward, and Trucy covered her ears as both men began to yell and rant.

"_**WHAT?!"**_

"Trucy Gramarye Wright, if I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times I don't want you dating before you're nineteen!"

"But Apollo, he's really nice—"

"I don't care! You know how many creeps out there are 'nice'? You have any idea what this guy's background information is, where he lives, what his family does?"

"Of course I do—"

"Does he have a job? How old is he? What's his name?" Now Phoenix was chipping in, starting to slip back into his parental paranoia with ease.

"Does he have any criminal records?" Apollo

"Why didn't he come to introduce himself to us?" Phoenix

"Why didn't he pick you up or drive you back?" Apollo

"Why—"

The questioning was too much; Trucy lost it.

"_Because he's Edgeworth's son!"_

The duo gave a collective gasp and fell silent. Again, a pin drop would have been appropriate.

Trucy continued on, undaunted by the white color Phoenix had turned, or the strange way Apollo was swaying on his feet. "His name is Edgar Edgeworth, and he's currently studying law like his father and intends to become a defense attorney when he grows up. His favorite color is yellow, his favorite food is turkey sandwiches, he's a Cancer and he likes listening to _The Beetles. _He lives four blocks away from us; the reason he didn't introduce himself to you is because he wanted to take it slow and start us off as friends. The reason he didn't come pick me up is because I asked him not to. And he _did _walk me back to the edge of the block. I care for him deeply and I'm going to keep seeing him whether you like it or not! Now, do you two have any more questions, or am I allowed to go to bed in peace?" And without even waiting for an answer, Trucy stormed off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Seconds after that, Apollo fainted, hitting the floor with a dull _thump _while Phoenix fell onto the couch and bemoaned the ceiling, "Edgeworth's _son. _Where did I go _wrong?_"

Sadly, he received no answer.


	20. Chapter 20

**20. one last promise **(Character death)

He had never thought it would end like this.

He had never thought that his old gang would try to get him back, that they would have split down the line like they did, between who followed Apollo and who followed Starsky.

He never considered that Starsky might try to kill him, just so he could have the power that Apollo apparently still held. He never considered what Starsky might do to try to get that power.

Breathing is becoming difficult. Apollo knows he won't last much longer. He has to get Trucy out, get her to shore and into the arms of her father before confronting Starsky one last time. Apollo is not delusional; he knows he won't make it through the night, if things go the way he thinks they will.

When Starsky threw Trucy out to sea, tossed her away like a rag doll, Apollo hadn't considered he could very well lose his own life. He had dived after her, pulled her up and made it to a crate bobbing nearby. Even with his shoulder bleeding as badly as it was, he was still able to get them back to shore.

Trucy was wrapped in his coat, hair lank and damp, eyes wide with unshed tears. Apollo knows she can tell what needs to happen next, but she doesn't want it to happen, doesn't want Apollo to die like so many good people do. "Go," he rasps.

"Apollo—"

He shakes his head sadly. "I made my choice long ago, Trucy. When I became ruler of a place that should have stayed dead, when I abandoned them for my own desires… I've had this coming, Truce. For a very long time now. You don't need to see it though. So go."

And after a minute she did, tears streaming down her face, legs shaky like a newborn. She stepped onto dry land and began running past the shipping crates, through the docks and back to where the police stood, her father anxiously praying his daughter would come home in one piece. Apollo doesn't see the reunion, but he feels it in his bones.

He closes his eyes and smiles; lifting himself off the crate, he walks back to where he knows the hidden switch is, and pulls it. The secret door opens. Without a second thought he climbs down, old paths revealing themselves to his eyes.

Starsky is sitting on Apollo's old perch, an apple and a knife in his hand. He doesn't even look up at Apollo's entrance. The former king sits down and waits, growing more and more tired with every passing breath, until Starsky finishes peeling the apple and tosses the apple down to him.

"You know, for someone who is said to be so powerful, you're incredibly selfish," Starsky informs him bluntly, chewing on the peeling while Apollo licks and sucks on the apple, drawing out any moisture it has to wet his mouth. He's so tired.

"You put everyone you love in danger, and for what? To be normal? To be like them? They who threw us away like trash? Why defend them?"

Apollo sighs. "You wouldn't understand, Starsky. You… you were abandoned by your mother, a mother you _knew. _Us, we… we never knew any of our parents. We can't recall them. That's what makes us different from you. Sure, we weren't happy to be abandoned, but we didn't hate either. We let those above us be as they may, and we kept to ourselves. You though… you hate them, for something that not everyone is guilty of. You hate that they are allowed families, that they can be so cheerful. And you want to punish them for something they can't control. It's just like Gumshoe said—"

"Don't you _dare _quote him to me!" Starsky screams, jerking upright, face livid. "How dare _you _accuse _me _of being the problem! If you had just given up and come to my side like a good little pawn—"

"That's another part of the problem," Apollo interrupts, forcing himself on his feet, feeling his last surges of energy ignite, his old presence settle over him like a cloak. "You think everyone is a pawn but you. Pawns are vulnerable if they don't have rooks, queens, knights or bishops to defend them. They get wiped out so easily, and the King is toppled within a few moves." He feels himself drawing on his old knowledge as Starsky leaps down, crazed rage gleaming in his eyes. "I'll show you one last time Starsky, what it takes to be a King."

Starsky charges, and Apollo hears the quiet _tick-tock-tick _in his own mind, signaling the starting time of his final fight against Starsky.

Things go a little dark after that. Red flashes now and again, sometimes he can faintly hear screams of pain through the haze, feel the pain of Starsky's knife slicing deep into his flesh, severing bone and snapping tendons. But he can also feel the dark wetness on his own body, proof that he is hurting the other just as much as Starsky is hurting him.

And then the critical moment comes when Apollo knocks Starsky back, and the blond's head slams against the wall, baring his neck for a mere moment. Apollo doesn't hesitate. Through suddenly clear vision, he watches as he digs his own weapon into Starsky's jugular, and the blond let out one final, bloody scream before his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

The knife slips from Apollo's hand seconds thereafter, knees giving in as Death sweeps over him like a familiar lover, embracing the man and gently tugging him away from his mortal shell. The body hits the ground just as the front door, previously locked is broken down by a battering ram and a police squad surges in. He's too far away to hear Trucy's scream of denial, of feel Gumshoe's tears as the man cries for him. He's no longer there to see Klavier shake his head and bury his face in his hands, crying over the loss, or Phoenix gently take the white sheet from one of the officers and place it over him, closing his eyes in the process.

_Requiescat in pace, Apollo."_

**The End.**


End file.
